


Logic Dictates

by ultharkitty



Category: Transformers Animated (2007)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-19
Updated: 2012-12-19
Packaged: 2017-11-21 15:09:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/599176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ultharkitty/pseuds/ultharkitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shockwave works alone in enemy territory, quietly bringing about the end of Autobot rule. Until Blurr arrives, and changes the course not only of Shockwave's life, but the fate of Cybertron itself.</p><p>Warnings/contents: AU, explicit consensual spike&valve sticky, accidental voyeurism, action, violence, murder that occurs in canon (in the AllSpark Almanac), romance and mention of spark bonding.</p><p>In this AU, most things happen in Seasons 1 and 2 as in canon, and it diverges around the final two episodes of Season 2.</p><p>This was intended to be fixit fic, but turned into an AU instead. Dellessa, I really hope you enjoy this :)</p><p>Grateful thanks go to my beta, naboru, and to spacehussy for all the help and encouragement :D</p>
            </blockquote>





	Logic Dictates

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dellessa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dellessa/gifts).



Long ago, a protoform was stolen from an Autobot medical transport. 

The gleaming soft metal still swam in its liquid state, visible only through the toughened glass window of the development pod. 

As yet unforged, the protoform had no wiring, no circuits; it could carry no programming, and was imprinted with neither personality nor faction allegiance. It was potential incarnate.

It arrived safely at its destination. Dark hands caressed the pod; silver lips smirked. It would do perfectly. 

* * *

Shockwave knelt. His joints still ached from his upgrades, but it was a good ache. His lord lay a hand on his shoulder, and he could have no sooner suppressed a shudder than he could have denounced the Decepticon cause. 

It was a privilege, he knew, an honour. Infiltration could be the key to victory; his could be the deciding role in the conflict to come. 

It felt like exile. 

* * *

"Name?" Longarm asked. Induction of new staff was tedious, but it came with the job. Divisional Manager of Cybertronian Security was a middle-of-the-road form-filling position. But Shockwave pressed himself to excel; it was one step closer to his goal. 

And besides, it gave him first-hand knowledge of everyone who worked for and around him. 

The new bot was small and blue, and the opposite of physically imposing. He stood stiffly upright, shoulders thrust back and chest out. 

"My name is Blurr," he said, and although he spoke faster than any bot Longarm had heard before, his words were well chosen, his sentences clear and precise. "I'm here to register as a divisional operative, Longarm Minor, sir. I've been transferred from Metroplex Security Division due to my superior speed and skills in infiltration and covert surveillance. My certificates and references have been uploaded to your console. I believe you'll find everything in order."

"You are correct." Longarm was impressed. Usually, Autobots managed to bungle at least one portion of the transfer forms. "Tell me," he said. "What made you want to change?" It was a question he was forced to ask everyone, springing from a ridiculous executive plan to make staff feel valued. 

The bot seemed to give it some consideration, although with hindsight Longarm suspected he was looking for hidden cameras. When Blurr finally spoke, his quick voice was sincere and his optics focused intently above Longarm's own. "I want what you want," he said. 

* * *

Shockwave wasn't alone any more.

Megatron confirmed it that night. Blurr was a sleeper agent, planted shortly after Shockwave's arrival, and triggered once Shockwave had been promoted to Divisional Manager. 

Shockwave had trouble processing it. After all these cycles and megacycles, all the waiting and scheming and patient lonely work, he was no longer by himself. 

* * *

Blurr didn't seem at all perturbed by the pool of dirty oil lapping against his feet. 

He lay a hand on Shockwave's arm. "I believe it would be the most logical course of action to dispose of the parts in one place very soon," he said, "rather than in several places over a prolonged period of time. This will minimise the chances of discovery, and ensure that the Elite Guard will spend as long as possible looking for a missing bot and not a corpse."

"Agreed," Shockwave said. It was good to assume his true form for a change, even if not his true colours. He knelt beside the dull grey frame of his former superior, and began to take it apart. "Remove his memory centre," he said to Blurr. "We may have use for that later."

* * *

It escalated fast. 

It was the shock of not being alone, of working as a pair; it was the urgent rush at Highbrow's death and the disposal of his parts. It was their deep pleasure at Megatron's joy, and his praise of their good work. 

The comm clicked off; Blurr pressed against him. 

"Our Lord did not instruct you," Shockwave began, but Blurr interrupted. 

"You mistake my intentions," he said. "I do not believe he ever meant for me to be your reward. Indeed, I would consider it an insult for an agent of my superior hardware and programming to be used in such a way." Blurr squirmed, resting his hands on Shockwave's chest. 

The sensation was most welcome, but Shockwave resisted the urge to reciprocate. "And?" he prompted. 

"It is less an 'and'," Blurr replied, "than a 'however'. I have no reason to believe I was intended as your reward, _however_ I have performed a thorough analysis of our personal and professional interactions over the past five megacycles, and the evidence strongly points towards a mutual attraction based not only in our successful team work, but also in my appreciation of your frame in all of your modes, and in your attraction to the excellent design of my bodywork, in particular my slender waist and hips. The excitement of our most recent mission has only served to bring this to the fore. Am I correct?"

"You are," Shockwave replied. He rested his claws on that delicate waist, prompting a smile and an enticing little wriggle. It was irresponsible to even consider this, but they were in his apartment - his secure, bug-free, soundproofed apartment - and Blurr's companionship, his presence over the past half an orbital cycle, had reawakened programming Shockwave had overridden into dormancy at the outset of his mission. They were safe, this was the moment of their triumph; what harm could it do?

Shockwave gave Blurr a serious look. "Your conclusion?" he said.

"My conclusion is obvious," Blurr said. "We should explore the depth of our attraction, beginning immediately. And although I do not share your mass shifting properties, and full physical interface may prove problematic if you remain in your current mode due to our significant difference in size, I am certain that with your particular skills and my perseverance this is something we can overcome to our mutual satisfaction."

Blurr was warm and eager in Shockwave's claws. Shockwave considered the minibot's hypothesis, his evidence, his conclusion. "I concur."

* * *

Blurr liked to use his mouth. Longarm was, of course, equipped for erotic play involving lips and tongue and denta, but Shockwave found it alien and slightly artificial. That is not to say he found it distasteful, just strange. Longarm's mouth had all the same functions and sensitivities as Blurr's, but it wasn't as immediate a thrill as anything Shockwave did with his true frame. 

Still, it was arousing. _Everything_ Blur did was arousing; everything he was Shockwave found utterly enthralling. His lithe little frame, his sharp mind, his speed; the way he ground himself against Longarm's squat Autobot chassis, the way his optics widened just so during overload. 

He was small, compact, powerful. Hidden in plain sight, he was the perfect spy. His devotion to Megatron equalled Shockwave's own, and their missions were complementary, their presence on Cybertron mutually beneficial.

He knew it couldn't last, but while it lasted it was wonderful. 

* * *

It was Cliffjumper's job to keep secrets. 

He'd always been taciturn, loyal; good traits in a Security Director's secretary. He wasn't prone to repeating gossip, and kept secrets for many bots. Sentinel Minor's insubordination, Highbrow's addictions, Ironhide's shady past. 

None were as big as the secret he kept for Longarm Prime. 

He learnt it completely by accident. A late night at the office, overtime he'd forgotten to sign up for on a day he had never been rostered. Noises came from the data archive; a heated debate, a rush of words Cliffjumper couldn't quite make out.

He walked up to the room bold as bolts, ready to announce himself so the bots inside knew they weren't alone in the building. 

He looked through the door and froze. Blurr lay facedown on a desk. Longarm was behind him, hands on his waist. His hips rocked, and there was a gleam of wetness on his thigh. 

Cliffjumper leapt back. His fuel pump stalled, and he fought to control his ventilation. 

The tide of words kept flowing, and Cliffjumper began to make sense of them. "Faster, oh please faster. That's amazing, so good and deep, and I can't even begin to describe how wonderful that is. It's making it really hard to think. That's it, yes, yesyesyes!" 

Blurr's vocal processors went on and on, and it took Cliffjumper a moment to realise it meant that neither Blurr nor Longarm had seen him. 

He gave a vote of thanks to the AllSpark, but Blurr continued, and Cliffjumper realised his thanks were a little premature. 

"We should bond," Blurr said. "You know it's logical, we share so much and it would increase our operational efficiency, and oh yes, like that, that angle, please! Hold me! Ugh, hold me, bond with me. I've analysed the variables, and the benefits outweigh the risks in all calculable scenarios. I can show you the data, but you know I'm right. Ah! Yes! Ahhhh!" Blurr's voice dissolved in an incoherent rush of sound, trailing off just enough for Cliffjumper to hear Longarm's pleasured groan. 

Cliffjumper winced. Of all the many things he'd fantasised about accidentally overhearing, that wasn't even on the list. Longarm was beyond reproach. His private life was scrupulous, his public life clean as scrubbed steal, if a little dull. Cliffjumper never would have taken him for a bot who would abuse his authority.

If he even was. Blurr's declarations of affection and enjoyment spoke of something else. It was still sordid, and a violation of office regulations, but it didn't seem to be a criminal offence. 

"I want to," Longarm said. "You know I do." There was a clang, and Cliffjumper could only imagine it was Blurr changing position. Longarm continued, "But we can't. We live in dangerous times; what if one of us is captured?"

"I've run the simulations," Blurr insisted. "The likelihood of capture is infinitesimal, smaller than the probability of spark rejection, and the probability of that is so small it's laughable. Uh! Oh, and now you're trying to distract me. I know your tactics, I think you should use two fingers, I... oh yes, that's exactly what I need. And just think how much more intense this would be if we were bonded. You could feel what I feel, the activation of thousands of tiny sensors and the movement of gears and ah! That's the spot, oh yes, just there, stroke it, I... I can't..." 

Cliffjumper backed away. At the end of the corridor he turned and fled. 

And although he thought about it more than he ever wanted to, he never repeated anything he'd heard. 

He told himself he kept Longarm's secret for the good of Cybertron, that a scandal in Security in these dangerous times could spell disaster for the Elite Guard. Public approval would plummet, the judgement of the Magnus would be brought into question. It could bring down the entire Autobot administration, and leave a power vacuum the Decepticons would be only too happy to fill. 

And so Cliffjumper kept Longarm's secret, and never again worked outside of his assigned shifts while Blurr was on Cybertron.

* * *

Sentinel Prime was on the comm again. 

"We've lost contact with Earth!" he snapped. "This is the fourth time this decacycle! It's got to be Optimus, he's up to something. You've got a bot watching him, haven't you?"

Longarm sighed; Sentinel always had to know everything. "Earth has been assessed," he said. "It does not pose a significant risk. There have been no Decepticon sightings there for a considerable period of time."

"Then you _have_ got a bot on the inside!" Sentinel pumped his fist in the air. 

"Having discussed the matter with Ultra Magnus and the council," Shockwave said, "we have concluded that an increased security presence around the more vulnerable space bridges - where, may I remind you, there _have_ been sightings of Decepticons, and very recently - is a far better use of our resources than deploying anyone to Earth."

Sentinel's optics narrowed. 

"I appreciate your concern," Longarm said, "but it is out of your hands. Perhaps you should raise the matter with the council, through _proper_ channels?" It was a shame that they were both Primes. Sentinel took their former relationship of rookie and drill sergeant to mean that he had some sway over Longarm now. How wrong he was.

Sentinel huffed and cut the comm. Longarm called Blurr.

* * *

"What part?" Blurr asked; he hated having to repeat himself. 

"Oh... everything after 'the name's not Zippy'?"

For a slow-clocked mudflap with an attention span measurable in nanoseconds and impulse control to match, Bumblebee was surprisingly tenacious. That tenacity _did_ issue from his egotistical need to be the 'fastest thing on wheels' and no true dedication to his cause, but Blurr was nonetheless impressed.

Still, that was no reason to give the bot ideas above his station. 

"I will not tell you again," Blurr said. "Your inability to listen and focus simultaneously will likely leave you just as confused the second time around. I suggest you take me to your commander, and I'll explain the whole situation to him."

Damage limitation, Blurr mused as he followed Bumblebee back to the Autobots' rather shoddy base, could be a necessary nuisance. It was one of the scenarios he and Shockwave had discussed before he left Cybertron. 

Along with what to do should he be discovered and should the Autobots attempt to sabotage Megatron's new space bridge. 

It was a risk, but not a large one. Bumblebee had switched from assuming Blurr was a Decepticon to accepting his Autobot credentials as fast as his tiny mind was able. As they drove into the old factory, Blurr allowed himself a moment to wonder what it would be like to tell Bumblebee the truth. It made him smile for the first time since he'd landed on Earth.

* * *

It was fortunate Bumblebee had more tenacity than processing power; the Autobots knew more than they should. 

Not about Longarm, not yet, but Blurr could see the clues accumulate. They knew about Wasp's innocence, about how Bumblebee had helped to frame him. They knew about the shadowy presence of a Decepticon agent still active on Cybertron.

They had one of Shockwave's transmissions.

It wasn't safe to leave. Blurr maintained his cover, and waited.

* * *

Waiting was the worst part. Shockwave rationed his contact with Blurr, keeping his mind on his own job on Cybertron. 

When Blurr appeared on a comm from Optimus' base on Earth, Longarm dealt with it dispassionately. When informal contact ceased altogether, he took it as a part of the job. 

* * *

This was not the plan. Blurr struggled to move, glued to the Starscream clones with a giant glob of cement, while the shining blue space bridge portal approached fast. They had seemed the perfect targets - he could assist Lord Megatron without revealing his true identity.

But the portal was about to put him out of the battle, out of the war. Out of the galaxy, even. 

He wriggled and squirmed as the cement dried, forming a tight little cave for his hand, allowing his fingers just enough movement. 

He thought back to the lucky moment, in the chaos of leaving the Autobot base. The opportunity with no-one else looking, and Optimus' back turned to him. His contingency plan.

Blurr squeezed the trigger against his palm, and activated the bomb he had fastened to Optimus Prime. 

The last thing he heard as fell through the space bridge was Bumblebee's startled shrieking. 

* * *

"Sir!" Cliffjumper barely knocked before he burst into Longarm's office. "Sir. We've lost contact with Earth."

"Can we be certain?" Longarm asked, voice steady and fake blue optics full of professional concern. "How long since the last transmission?"

"Five cycles, sir," Cliffjumper replied. "I've been trying every sixty Earth seconds." He paused to close the door. "This is the last message we received, I've only just managed to decode it."

He slotted a datachip into Longarm's console, and pressed play. 

"The is Prowl." The audio was clear for a moment, then began to fizz, the words rising and sinking in the static. "We need backup. I repeat, we _need_ backup. Optimus is injured, everyone has been captured except for me. Megaron has control of the space bridge, he's summoning his army. The ship... Omega Supreme, it - he - is lost. Through the space bridge, coordinates unknown. I repeat, Optimus is down, Megatron has him captive. I... I came back to base to send this message... I can hear them, they're looking for me, I have to go. Send help, and send it soon. Prowl out."

Five cycles later, in a gap between emergency meetings, Longarm retreated to his office. He made a sweep for bugs, just in case someone had been there in his absence. Satisfied, he booted up a non-networked commlink and in-putted the code.

Megatron responded immediately.

It wasn't until Shockwave learnt that Blurr was not a plant in the captured Autobot party that his cautious optimism became concern.

* * *

"There!" Lugnut roared. "He's in the room above!"

Blitzwing transformed to his tank alt, took aim, and fired. And fired. And kept on firing as the building shook and the ceiling cracked, and little chips of concrete fell on them like snow. 

Lugnut punched his way clear of the rubble. He needn't have expended so much energy. A black and tan leg poked out from beneath a chunk of wall. It was not moving. 

Lugnut seized the leg and pulled. The ninja groaned, dazed and disorientated, but alive. 

"Cuffs?" Blitzwing said; he transformed out of the rubble wearing his icy persona, "Or we could terminate him here?" 

The idea had its merits, but there was no glory in killing an unarmed prisoner, and no use in a hostage who was already dead. Lugnut held the ninja by his feet. "Cuffs."

* * *

If they had bonded, this would not have happened. 

If they had bonded, Shockwave would be able to locate his missing spy. 

If they had bonded, he would know if Blurr was alive or dead, if he was lost to a random point in space, or nothing but a memory, a martyr to the cause.

He would know if it was logical to hope.

The meetings dragged. Sentinel planned for invasion, Ultra Magnus directed space bridge defence. Shockwave relayed whatever intel came to him, guiding strategy with carefully timed suggestions, and keeping his mind wholly on the job. Cliffjumper brought news of colony after colony fighting, struggling, falling. 

Defence was their first priority; the second was to organise evacuation, initially of the major cities, and then - if the worst came to the worst - of the whole population to whatever safe off-world colonies remained. They had run simulations, they knew the drill, but Longarm found complications in the plans that kept them talking long past the time they should all have gone to refuel. 

He ran the Magnus ragged, nudged Sentinel this way and that until the bot stormed out of the room in an impotent rage. Not against Longarm, oh no, just against the situation. 

Even alone, Shockwave did not allow himself time to think of Blurr. He had processed his regrets, it was useless to dwell on them. 

* * *

It felt like forever. Cement dust still crunched in his gears; frost rimed his wheels, and the cold of space made his tires shrivel and crack. 

The Starscream clones had been worse than useless. As soon as the gunk binding them split, they fled. Blurr had time to dodge a few half-hearted pot shots, but no opportunity to reveal to them his rank and identity and get them to fly him back to occupied space. 

He forged on; his thrusters weren't designed for space travel, but he did what he could with the equipment at hand. Every moment he prayed for a ship to commandeer, although with the AllSpark in fragments, he wasn't sure exactly what he was praying to.

He put it down to the physiological symptoms of stress.

He had to get to Cybertron, he had to learn the outcome of the battle, to be there for Megatron, for Shockwave, for the cause. 

He re-plotted his location every cycle. He was still so far away.

* * *

"Where's Blurr?" Bulkhead whispered. In the cave his voice echoed, but it probably didn't matter. Only the Constructicons remained to guard them, and they were drinking oil outside the door.

Bumblebee shifted awkwardly in his restraints. "Gone," he said. 

"Gone?" Bulkhead tried not to look at Optimus. Their boss lay still in the corner, scorched and broken. Alive, but only just, and who knew how long that would last. 

"Gone," Bumblebee plucked a sliver of shrapnel from his arm. "Like Ratchet and Sari and the ship."

"He'll be OK," Bulkhead tried to sound confident. "He's a special agent, he'll figure something out."

"And he'll get back here and rescue us just in time and it'll all be fine?" Bumblebee tugged at the cuffs again. "I hope Prowl's-"

"Shh!" Bulkhead hissed. "Listen!"

Bumblebee glared, but managed to resist getting his cables all knotted. 

Bulkhead paused a while, head tilted. Then he nodded a the door. "Did you hear that?" 

"Hear what? I can't hear anything!"

"They stopped now," Bulkhead said. "It was Mix and Scrapper, they were talking about Cybertron. I thought I heard them say something about a guy with long arms and a red circle on his face talking to Megatron."

Bumblebee felt like he'd been dipped in liquid nitrogen. "A guy with... Oh no."

* * *

Longarm personally supervised the security upgrades on Cybertron's own space bridges. No-one else could be trusted, as Sentinel had stage-whispered to him one emergency defence meeting. The idiot Prime had looked so smug.

Shockwave took pride in his work, inserting overrides keyed to his own and Megatron's spark signatures. They sat alongside blocks that would - when the time was right - keep the Autobots from programming their own destinations. He kept his hands occupied, blunt fingers deftly working while his processor handled task after task in parallel streams so as to occupy all of his considerable potential.

Blurr was still missing; he could leave his mind no space to roam. 

* * *

"The Hub is captured," Strika declared. The signal was poor, but her pride was as clear as the corpse of an Autobot crumpled at her feet. "We control all space bridges in this sector. We await your command, Lord Megatron."

"Good." Megatron assessed the data in light of other units' gains. "Prepare your troops. On my mark, we will take what is rightfully ours."

* * *

"That's what you get..." Sentinel struck a pose for the assembled reporters. "...when you have the right bots in the right places. Bots trained by _me_. _We_ are in control of this situation. _We_ have the space bridges, _we_ have the defence grid, and we have the best security team ever to wear this badge. So you see, there's nothing to wo- What was that?" 

The tremor was minor, and the third in succession. Longarm's sensors detected them easily, but he was closer to the blast sites. Each explosion was expected, the bombs triggered by timers independent of Longarm's own actions. He and Blurr had planted them so long ago now it seemed like another life. 

"Longarm Prime, sir." Cliffjumper strode into the office, holding a clutch of data crystals. "They're bombings, we have confirmation. These are the security vids, and we have preliminary witness reports and casualty figures here." Another tremor rippled through the building. 

"And?" Longarm said, while Shockwave's circuits buzzed. 

"Ultra Magnus has ordered a meeting," Cliffjumper replied. "War room, as soon as you're ready. We've received a message; Megatron wants to talk." 

* * *

When Blurr arrived on Cybertron there was time to refuel, but only because he would have collapsed without it. 

The jolt of energy lent a new edge to his urgency. Blurr sped through the Metroplex, weaving his way around the slow and the ignorant. His joints burned, so worn they creaked. His armour was scuffed and filthy, his Autobot badge smeared with grime. 

The wait at main security felt like years, then he was in, and heading straight for Longarm's office. 

* * *

"As you see," Megatron said. "We have you surrounded."

He stood beside Earth's space bridge, every detail showing clear on the war room's immense central screen. 

Shockwave forced Longarm's vents to keep cycling air. This was it, the moment they had worked for. All the planning, the hiding and waiting; if they played it right now, it would all come to fruition. 

Ultra Magnus stood grim, hammer in hand. Sentinel looked furious. Shockwave catalogued the others present, the senators and primes of the council of war. They wore a mix of terror and panic and righteous indignation. And all of them were focused completely on Megatron.

"We will not treat with terrorists," Ultra Magnus said. 

Megatron smiled. "You think I'm suing for peace?" He laughed, and the sound of it warmed Shockwave's spark. "You are very much mistaken."

"Get to the point," Sentinel snapped, but Ultra Magnus touched his arm and he closed his mouth. 

"You will surrender," Megatron said, "completely and unequivocally. To me. Right _now_."

The council erupted, and Longarm did nothing to stop them. The talks were a diversion; no-one expected the Autobots to surrender. While Sentinel yelled and Ultra Magnus slowly restored order, Shockwave made his own silent countdown to the activation of the space bridges. 

"You will cease this madness," Ultra Magnus demanded. "The only way you will set foot on Cybertron again will be in chains."

"Is that so?" Megatron's smile broadened. "Perhaps you need a reminder of what is at stake. Lugnut, bring out the prisoners."

Longarm feigned discomfort as the council gasped and muttered. 

Ultra Magnus remained silent, stern, although his hand visibly tightened around his hammer's grip. 

"Get the slag away from us, you heap of rusted scrap!" 

Bumblebee. Oh, stupid, naive Bumblebee. Lugnut would likely make him regret those words. 

The yellow bot was dirty and dented. And loud, but that was only to be expected. Shockwave identified the others as they came into view. Optimus Prime and the cyber-ninja, Prowl, both offline. Bulkhead, the space bridge genius, was online and sullen in stasis cuffs. An organic sat equally as sullen next to him in simple shackles of steel. Only the medic was missing, and the juvenile human with her AllSpark-infused key.

Bulkhead looked up, his optics widening. "Ultra Magnus!" he cried. "Longarm!" But whatever else he wanted to say was lost to Lugnut's fist.

One of the senators leaned in to Longarm and whispered, "Wasn't he in your platoon at the Academy?"

Megatron lifted Bumblebee by his neck, presenting the bot to the council. "I will have Cybertron," he said, as Bumblebee's vocal processors hissed and popped, and the bot squirmed as best he could with his hands bound at his back. "This Autobot is already dead, his unit is dead. We have soldiers on Cybertron, more than you could ever imagine. We control the space bridges. Bombs will only be the start of it. We surround you, inside and out. Surrender or die."

"Your threats are futile," Ultra Magnus said. "Release the prisoners."

Bumblebee's struggling worsened, legs straining up at right angles to his body. He kicked empty air, and Megatron let him, stalling for time. Not long now, Shockwave thought. The ships should be coming into position, the legions should be readying to move. 

"Surrender," Megatron said, "and I will spare their lives, and the lives of your soldiers, your fighters, anyone who would have stood against me. I will not strip rank from elected officials, senators may retain their wealth and property."

All lies, but ones the council needed to hear. Mercy was not the way to take a planet, clemency forged no empires. 

Ultra Magnus took a step towards the screen. "Cybertron will never be yours."

Longarm leaned over his datapad, while Shockwave ran through the next few stages of the plan. The space bridges would activate, and with them the blocks on Autobot access; Megatron would cut the transmission ready to lead his troops through to Cybertron; Longarm would accompany the Magnus to a secure location where he would continue to enable the takeover from within. 

"It _will_ be mine!" Megatron threw Bumblebee aside, his optics gleaming. "I will take Cybertron in peace or in war, and you can never hope to stop me."

"Him!" Bumblebee screeched, and his voice was so weak that Shockwave almost missed it. The bot strained, pointing with his foot. Lugnut raised his fist, and Bumblebee blurted, "Longarm is a Decepticon spy!"

Lugnut's fist connected, and Bumblebee spoke no more. 

Longarm shrugged in incomprehension at an obviously ridiculous charge, while Shockwave identified his targets and prepared to transform. The room filled with voices, questions and rebuttals. Only Sentinel was, for a change, completely silent. He stared at Longarm, open-mouthed. 

On screen, Megatron turned on his heel and kicked the limp yellow body out of the way. "Activate the space bridge," he said calmly, as the visuals faded to static. "We move to plan delta four." 

It was Shockwave's cue. He transformed, taking out the nearest senator with one quick sweep of his claws. 

Sentinel snapped out of his daze, reaching for his weapon. Ultra Magnus swung the hammer. Too late; Shockwave barrelled into him, claws around the hammer's grip, covering the Magnus's hand. Ultra Magnus was big, heavy, but Shockwave had momentum on his side. He twisted, rose, his free arm around that broad blue chest, claws stabbed as far into his armour as they would go. 

Ultra Magnus froze, and Shockwave could feel why. Coils of spark energy fizzed around the tips of his talons; he flexed his fingers and the Magnus winced.

"Let him go!" Sentinel yelled. 

"I think not," Shockwave replied. He squeezed the Magnus's hand, claws cutting into the Autobot's fingers. Several of the council had taken aim, and several more were making for the exit. "Remain where you are, lay down your weapons." He prepared to wrench the hammer from the Magnus, to tear his claws free and throw the Autobot at Sentinel. His gun arm buzzed as the weapon charged. 

There was a commotion outside the door. Muffled voices, a sharp yell. Sentinel began to look smug. 

The door opened, and something filthy and blue-black-brown tumbled into the room. 

"Agent Blurr," Sentinel said with a wide grin, while Shockwave fought not to react. "Inform Elite Guard operative Jazz of the situation, and fetch reinforcements." 

Blurr sped off, but he was only gone a moment. Shockwave heard the clean metallic clang of two loyal Autobot security agents being removed from the picture. When Blurr came back, Sentinel didn't even have time to shout.

* * *

The space bridges opened, the skies filled. In the bunker beneath the Metroplex Shockwave emerged again from his Longarm alt. Blurr kept watch on the prisoners, although the probability they would get free was not high; this kind of stasis was so hard to break out of alone.

The bunker was sealed. As far as the troops outside were concerned, those inside were Autobot command. Ultra Magnus, Sentinel, Longarm; the strategists, the experts, sealed away to coordinate defence. 

Shockwave spared a glance for the hammer resting against the wall. It was a beautiful weapon, but as far as beautiful weapons went, it could never compare to Blurr. He sat at the support console, a data cable running from his wrist to the computer to free his visual sensors for the task of watching over their captives. 

Shockwave ached to touch him, but now was not the time. They had a war to win.

* * *

The hammer was gone, and in its place was the fusion cannon. 

"My Decepticons," Megatron began. His voice rang out across the plaza. "This is the moment we have been fighting for, the culmination of our goal of a Decepticon-controlled Cybertron. We have done it, we have _won!_ Cybertron belongs to us!"

The cheer was momentous. Shockwave kept half an optic on the news feeds - now under strict government control - and allowed himself a moment to be buoyed up by the crowd. More than a moment. Blurr stood beside him, their energy fields meshed and a pleasant thrilling warmth passing between them. 

It was as close as they had been since Blurr's return, although not for lack of desire. Time, privacy, opportunity; those things had been in short supply, but it all paled into insignificance when compared with the things they had gained.

* * *

Kneeling, Blurr took the brand. It seared, a white flash of agony, a slow burn as it cooled. And under it all, a fierce unabatable joy. 

He had already taken the oath, centuries before when his protoform first filled out his armour. But he had different words now, an oath to Megatron's empire, to the protection of Cybertron, to the further glory of the Decepticon cause. 

The rest spoke it too, on their knees before Megatron. Not one by one, but together. 

* * *

Blurr rode the tide of overload, Shockwave's spike tight inside him, their cables joined and their systems in perfect synchronisation. 

They shared quarters now, no need for late night escapes or early morning clandestine exits. Blurr stretched out over Shockwave's chest, his valve still rippling and his every circuit singing. 

He smirked, and traced the outline of Shockwave's insignia. His new grey paint was a perfect match for Shockwave's purple, his fresh brand a complement to the older symbol. 

He rolled his hips, luxuriating in the feel of Shockwave inside him, while he brought to mind the evidence he'd collated. It wasn't new, but the context had changed, and perhaps Shockwave would think his conclusions more convincing with fresh analysis. 

"You will share your thoughts?" Shockwave said, his voice as contented as the low rumble of his engine.

"I believe I shall," Blurr said. "I wish to re-visit the subject of spark bonding, but applying new analysis due to the recent changes in our-" He stopped, a slender claw resting lightly against his lips. He flicked his tongue over the tip, and shivered as it stroked down to his throat and then his chest. He sat up, the change in angle stretching him again, igniting a new heat while the touch make his spark swirl with need. 

"We have won," Shockwave said, and the pitch of his engine shifted. Gears whirled, parts spiralled open. A deep purple light filled Blurr's world, and for the first time in his life he fought for words. 

"Do you... Will you..." It seemed too good to be true. 

In answer, Shockwave repeated the first sentence Blurr had ever said to him. "I want what you want."


End file.
